


Welcome To Annville

by ItsClydeBitches, mobius-loop (igy)



Category: Preacher (TV), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Multi, Shenanigans, radio transcript, the unholy trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7614862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches, https://archiveofourown.org/users/igy/pseuds/mobius-loop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Actions speak louder than words. Feelings smell stronger than words. Thoughts are far denser than words. Words are incomprehensible, and therefore the most dangerous of all.</i>
</p><p>A Preacher x WTNV crossover, featuring Jesse as the Voice of Annville. What strange happenings plague this sleepy Texas town? What can Mayor Tulip do about it? And who is the mysterious stranger that just arrived?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Actions speak louder than words. Feelings smell stronger than words. Thoughts are far denser than words. Words are incomprehensible, and therefore the most dangerous of all.

Welcome to Annville.

 

[Intro Music - [AMC Preacher’s Title Theme](https://youtu.be/1zBILhAPFFA) ]

 

Good evening, listeners.

Here at the station we’ve been receiving numerous calls, letters, and bloodstone summons asking fervently that we bring back our popular spot, Cooking with Jesse. Now... I must admit that I was humbled by this response. I had no idea y’all enjoyed my mixed drink recipes so much! Beer, whiskey... they make wonderful nightcaps-- or morningcaps, afternooncaps, 5:00PMcaps, the perfect dinner replacement in a pinch-- but if you _really_ want to spice things up, you’ll want to cook up a mixture of pure rubbing alcohol, some coffee machine descaler, and a bit of the shit you’d find dripping out of the back of your government-sanctioned air conditioner. Remember, if your air conditioner is working, y’all are in violation of Code 66 and must report to the authorities _immediately_.

But!

[Clink of a glass]

Y’all already know about my fondness for the good ol’ firewater, listeners. Today, as a welcome back to this portion of the show, we’ll be hosting a very special guest instead: my girlfriend and your Supreme Ruler, Mayor Tulip O’Hare. She’ll be presenting us with her town-famous recipe for vanilla hash browns. So stay tuned! It’s guaranteed to be a segment you won’t want to miss.

In other news, our town council would like to announce the opening of a new dog park in Annville, right at the corner between the diner and the Toadvine Whorehouse. It’s a beautiful dog park, listeners—or so I’ve been told—filled with all the exciting, dangerous things you’ll need to entertain yourself and your four-legged friend. However, Sheriff Root and his secret police would like to remind everyone that people are not allowed in the dog park. _You_ are not allowed in the dog park. Any dogs entering the dog park _must_ be named Brewski. Failure to abide by these rules will result in a $200 fine and an extra five years served in the Blood Desert War. Please take care around the dog park. It may harm you.

Seriously, listeners...Terri Loach? The lady whose poor daughter... well. We all know what happened to her. Anyway, Terri Loach went to get some fresh air (good for her and all that!) but apparently she tried to take her dog, named _Skeeter_ , into the dog park and…the results were not pretty.

[Sigh]

My heart goes out to that whole family. It really does.

Now, I think—

[Phone ringing, ominously]

Ah, it looks like we've got a caller! [Picks up phone] Ahem. [Puts on a horrible Australian accent] G’day mate, welcome to the Pancakes Anonymous Hotline. For our maple syrup assistance, please press 1--

**_Cut the shit, Jesse. I know it's you._ **

Oh hey! Listeners, it's Odin Quincannon-- You know, the meat guy. What can I do for you, Odin? By the way, uh, we’re live on-air… not that it usually makes much difference to you.

**_Nope, it sure as hell don't._ **

Haha, of course. Listeners, in case y'all haven't gone outside in a few years, Mr. Quincannon (y'know, the meat guy) is the president of QM&P, the lovely folks who are responsible for that giant and _very tasteful_ billboard of a slaughtered pig that greets us all on the highway exit for Annville.

**_C’mon now, you can't blame me for advertising… QM &P is responsible for most of the jobs in this godforsaken town._ **

And we are all **so** grateful for you. As a matter of fact, your friend Mayor Tulip is stopping by later--

**_That hopped-up girl ain't my friend._ **

[A few seconds of crackly radio static]

 _…_ You know what? You better get to whatever you called about, because I'm ready to hang up now. Tulip's been nothing but diplomatic, and QM&P has been-- pardon my French, listeners-- nothing but a bucket of cow shit in return. That's something you're familiar with, right Odin?

**_Hmph. How about you tell Tulip she can--_ **

[Phone click]

Oops, listeners, looks like we dropped the call. Old phone lines and such, what can you do?

[A few moments of quiet and the sounds of a glass being emptied]

So, listen. I mean, that’s what you always do, you’re my listeners after all. But really, just _listen_ for a moment, because I have BIG NEWS, Annville, and I—I—

...I’m not quite myself.

There’s something to be said for balance, isn’t there? When life hands you lemons you make municipally approved lemonade, right? And when life hands you sanctimonious sacks of shit whom, for the sake of keeping the peace shall remain nameless, but their surname may or may not rhyme with _sin-fanon--_ Apparently, life soothes those things over by giving you blessed _perfection_.

There’s a new man in town, listeners, and I fell in love instantly.

At least... I think he’s man. Who is he, exactly? What does he want? Why his skinny frame and perfect teeth? Why the tattoos that sometimes seem to shift and change shape? He claims he’s a vampire, but aren’t we all vampires? We feed off of friends and family and acquaintances. That poor sales clerk you accosted, dumping a decade’s worth of marriage problems on her while she bagged your food—do you really think she’ll get those ten minutes back? We consume in horrible, selfish ways, but this man says he consumes only blood. Like... not just during the annual organ tasting? Just all the time??

Wow.

He’s beautiful. A lot like how our new dog park is beautiful. Listeners, if any of you know his name _I demand that you call in immediately_.

Ahem.

[Clears throat]

[Radio static, faint mumbling from afar] I wonder if he’d like Tulip...

More on this as I stalk our new arrival heartily.

This just in: Annville residents are reporting that a strange, malevolent portal has opened up in the abandoned church. Witnesses claim that they can smell sulfur, rotting eggs, the sour stench of dishes left three weeks in the sink... and they can hear howls. Terrible, _agonized_ wails issuing up from the floorboards. They sound like  they’re coming from depths of Hell itself. The noise is drawing people in from all over town and interrupting everyone’s daily ritual of shooting their rabid squirrels.

I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, listeners. Though I’ll send our new intern out to learn more. Yes, we all miss poor Anne. No one was expecting her to get sucked into that sentient mud hole while reporting on our annual laser tag hunt. What a terrible, unexpected fate. She will be missed... but y’all are going to love Eugene! He’s _very_ into journalism and _very_ helpful around the station. You might even know him already, as our own Sheriff Root’s son. Or perhaps as The Faceless Young Man Who Secretly Lives in Your Home. _I’ve_ certainly never seen his face. Though he’s turned up in my home once or twice! I hear he’s having family troubles...

Ah well. Time for the community calendar:

  * Monday is officially fictitious. I'm sure everyone’s thankful for that! Starting this Monday, look forward to a full 24-hours that simply no longer exists.


  * On Tuesday, our beloved local diner will be offering double price burgers. That's right, y'all! The burgers you love, twice as expensive as normal. No added bonus, just added profits! I wish every day was Double Price Tuesday. [Wistful sigh] And… just a random thought, but… does our diner actually have a _name_? ... No? Huh. Emily, our all-knowing station management, says it doesn’t. It's never had one, she says, not during all the time she’s existed on this plane anyway. Well! Call in now to name the town diner. If your suggestion is chosen, we'll TRIPLE the price of your burger this Tuesday!


  * Wednesday is Grandparent’s Day. Now, I know what y’all are thinking, Annville… you're probably excited about the prospect of those old-fashioned caramel candies. Just remember, not everybody is so lucky when it comes to grandparents. Sometimes, instead of candies, you get a heart full of bitter anger… and hatred, and spitefulness… and sometimes you get a really bad tattoo. At least if it's in the center of your back, you don't have to look at it all the time. [coughs] Moving on...


  * On Thursday, there is a chance of snow. It's not a very high chance since, y'know, we’re in this beautiful west Texas desert… but there's always a chance.  That's what makes life interesting. Just like there’s a chance that this new stranger will _like_ me and _talk_ to me and maybe someday, after a long, beautifully bloody courtship, we’ll move into a house together and get our very own Brewski to love and hold and--  
  
Oh. [loud, inhumane noises] Emily is yelling at me, listeners. I suppose there’s a _high chance_ I’ll be continuing with the community calendar now...


  * Friday, as we all know, is the day for our weekly offerings to the Sheriff’s secret police. Sheriff Root has informed me that he's running out of space in his house for all the La-Z-Boy chairs y'all have so nicely procured, so this week he's switching over to offerings of frozen pizza dinners and/or fuzzy velvet paintings of dogs playing cards. Hm, I'll have to get Eugene to help me procure one of each. I'm sure he won't mind.


  * Saturday… Well, I'm free on Saturday. Mostly free. _Yes,_ Emily, I know I should be writing up next week's programs… but just in case some mysterious stranger that might've wandered into town is listening, and who might have gotten a little freaked out about my previous… uh… _fantasy_... I wouldn't be opposed to starting small! Like going out for some coffee? Or Chinese food? Do you think he likes Chinese food, listeners? He seems like the kind that wouldn't be too picky…  
  
…  
  
Oh, sorry--SORRY, EMILY--I was just thinking out loud. Ahem.


  * And finally, it looks like Sunday will be pure and unending angst from 9:00pm-10:00pm EST.



 

This completes the community calendar.

If you forget where you should be and why you’re there at any given moment, you can check the calendar on our website at www-dot-AnnvilleRadio-dot co--

_Umh, Jhesshe?_

Yeah, what is it Eugene? Sorry listeners, our intern seems to have a question.

_Uhh... I'm not shhure what you wanth me to do with the churchhht…_

Well it's pretty simple. We got a call about that portal to Hell opening up, and that is important news that needs reporting! You want to be a journalist, right? Grab a pen and get out there, Eugene!

_But, umh, you want me to… go?_

Yes, Eugene, _go!_

_I'm shorry Jhesshe but I'm still not shhure--_

**_GO, EUGENE_ **.

[Sound of door slamming]

Sorry about that, y'all. For all his enthusiasm, real journalism can be intimidating… but that's why I like having interns here, to really show them the true nature of the beast. Sometimes that beast is a portal to Hell. Sometimes it has claws, and too many teeth, and eyes that reflect in the darkness… Oh, by the way, your hair looks nice today, Emily. That's station management for you, always put together and keeping us on-air. Otherwise y'all would never get to hear the voice of yours truly.

[Rustling papers]

Breaking news, listeners. It appears that two more strangers have just entered Annville-- we sure are popular today! Citizens describe one as being not exactly tall and the other as not exactly short. They are pale and thin and only one of them sports a beard. They carry a mysterious trunk with them... as well as a coffee can that’s making unmentionable noises. Both wear cowboy hats (the visitors that is, not the trunk and can) and the not exactly tall one apparently has the singing voice of an angel.

Actually...Tulip just texted me saying they _are_ angels. _Literally_. And... if I can be honest, listeners, I don’t know why she’s being this way? Her texts seem a little harsh. I’d read them out to you but frankly there are a couple phrases in here that aren’t meant for our younger crowd. Plus, since when does she believe in something like angels? Our mayor has always had an open mind--it’s one of the reasons we love her!--but everyone knows that angels don’t exist. They’re just like mountains. Or government clones! Angels definitely aren’t an actual thing

Seriously, Tulip... are you alright?

Well. She’s probably just stressed about a certain meeting with a certain meat-obsessed jackass--pardon my french once again--and I, for one, can’t blame her. Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re all rooting for you. And I know from personal experience that you will win them over, one way or another. The only thing more effective than a baseball bat is that gorgeous smile. Until then, the new arrivals (who are _definitely_ not angels) have set up shop outside the abandoned church and, using supplies from that mysterious trunk, are feeding the curiously terrified onlookers with what appear to be... hamburgers. And possibly hotdogs? Those who have eaten them say they are, direct quote, ‘ _heavenly’_ and so far have minimal side effects. Maybe Tulip and Eugene both can grab a snack on their way. That should perk them right up!

Do yourselves a favor and go grab some grub, listeners. It's funny... [Loud sniffing] I could swear I smell the hamburgers myself...

Ah, and I’m afraid there’s some more bad news coming in. In a valiant effort to inspect the Hell portal, our poor, faceless intern has apparently fallen _into_ it. Though witnesses say that it was less of a fall and more of a suction, with wind and, what were perhaps ghostly hands, rising up to pull our young citizen down into those hellish depths. Eugene is _gone_.

I don’t... I don’t really know what to say. Y’all, I... as callous as this may sound, these are the risks of journalism. Eugene knew exactly what he was getting into when he took this job and I for one cannot regret his fate, whatever it may be. I--

[Audible swallow]

... hey there, Emily. Sorry about this, listeners.

_JESSE CUSTER, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE._

Nothing! Emily--Emily don’t look at me like that!--we have a duty to report the news. All that is weird and inexplicable; what makes Annville great! It’s our _job_.

_AND WHAT? YOU WERE TOO LAZY TO GO YOURSELF?_

Go--? You know I can’t leave the station!

...

...

...

_YOU’RE AN IDIOT._

[Door slams]

... what was _that_ about?

Y’all, I can only assume that Emily has gone to check on our wayward intern. Obviously it would be great if she could retrieve him, but if not, I still don't regret my decision to send him in the first place. Journalism is a perilous business and some people simply don’t have the stomach for it. Well. While we wait for news on Eugene’s fate, let’s have a quick word from our sponsors:

Listeners, do y'all ever find yourselves wishing you could go back in time? Not, like, to fix that messed up junior prom date. You'll never be able to fix that. But I mean, _way_ back in time? Well look no farther than Annville’s own _Town of Ratwater Historical Reenactment Society!_ Play dress up and pretend to be a battle-weary, cynical cowboy, overcome with the struggles of living in a desolate wasteland. If you're lucky, you might even get to shoot _Donny Schenck_ with a good old-fashioned paintball gun! How great is that? Space is limited, so sign up now for the chance of a lifetime. Shoot that bastard Donny, take a pic, and send them into your local radio station to get your name mentioned on-air! I won’t be sharing the pics themselves of course--because this isn’t a visual medium!-- but I _will_ save them and pass them around with glee at our weekly station meetings.

So join the Ratwater Historical Reenactment Society today. You (and I) won’t be disappointed!

This has been a word from our sponsor.

Hm. I’ve just gotten word that the Definitely-Not-Angel’s questionable burgers are… doing strange things to the folks who have eaten them. I hope Tulip is back on one of her vegetarian kicks. Heh.

[Phone rings]

Wow, what’s up with the line today? [Horrible Australian accent] Ello’ ello’ this remains Pancakes Anonymous Hotline. For our M&M option, please press 2 and we’ll forward you to the Mayor’s office--

_JESSE._

Emily? [Clears throat] H-hey! Uh... everything okay down there?

 _HE’S STUCK IN HELL, JESSE. EUGENE. HE’S_ DAMNED.

Oh... oh that’s... I’m sorry to hear that.

 _LIKE FUCK YOU ARE._ (Emily! You can’t just say that on air--!) _SHOVE IT. I’VE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH YOU THESE LAST FEW WEEKS. THAT BOY HAS DONE NOTHING BUT TRY TO BE A GOOD INTERN--FOLLOWING YOU AROUND LIKE A GODDAMN PUPPY, TAKING NOTES, PRACTICING HIS SUMMONING SKILLS--AND YOU JUST KEPT PUSHING AND PUSHING HIM. I DIDN’T NEED TO SEE HIS FACE TO KNOW HE’S BEEN UPSET, SO DON’T TRY AND TELL ME THIS WAS A ROUTINE REPORT. YOU SENT HIM THERE KNOWING FULL WELL SOMETHING BAD MIGHT HAPPEN._

[Voice suddenly hard] He killed a girl, Emily. He shot Tracy.

_YOU GONNA TELL ME YOU’VE NEVER KILLED ANYONE, JESSE CUSTER? I HAVE, YOU HAVE, WE ALL HAVE. THIS IS A TOWN FULL OF KILLERS AND HERE--[voice drops, softer, slightly scared]--OH FUCK. IT’S SO CROWDED HERE. WE ARE NOT ALONE IN OUR BLOODLUST, JESSE. NOT AT ALL._

Wait, Emily, you’re _in_ the portal?

_YES. I WENT THROUGH AND... IT’S EVERYTHING YOU’D EXPECT IT TO BE. I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG I’VE BEEN GONE. THE SAME MOMENTS KEEP PLAYING AGAIN AND AGAIN...HORRIBLE MOMENTS... BUT I’M GOING TO FIND EUGENE. TRACY TOO. I’LL FIND THEM AND----JESSE? WILL YOU WATCH MY KIDS? IF SOMETHING HAPPENS?_

Nothing is going to happen, Emily. I--Emily?

[Radio static]

 **_Emily_ ** _?_

[Static]

She’s gone, listeners. I... I do hope she comes back.

I hope they all do.

[Hangs up the phone, only to have it immediately ring again]

Son of a-- hrm. That's Odin again, y'know, the Meat Guy. I've got half a mind not to answer. I do _not_ need this right now. This isn't Coast to Coast, you can't just call in wherever you damn please…

[Sighs and answers the call]

Alright, things are busy here Mr. Quincannon. You've got three minutes. What's this about?

**_I just done speakin’ with Mayor Tulip. Jesus, Jesse, can't you control that girl?_ **

[Loud laughter interrupts the conversation]

Lord have mercy, _oh_ , I needed a good laugh. Thanks Odin. Let's be honest here: First, you're a dick for even asking me that. Second, my girlfriend isn’t the problem. QM&P has been trying to steal more property from Annville for ages. When are y’all gonna give it up?

 ** _Hmph. The question you should worry about is what's gonna happen when I ride up to your sorry radio station building with a wrecker and a couple of backhoes? I’m gonna--_** [click]

Whoops! Wow, that's twice in one day. I _really_ need to get these old phone lines looked at. Anyway, my lovely listeners, the moral here is not to get so wrapped up in your work that you start acting like an ass and worshiping creepy, meat-based gods. It's always a tough situation when you have to confront people, but when times like these occur, it's best to face them head-on. Preferably with a lot of extra ammunition. So, while I go check on the radio station weapons stockpile, and maybe text Tulip back… I will leave you all with the Weather.

 

[ [_Hallelu_ by The Devil Makes Three](https://youtu.be/MFBksGAppLc%20) ]


	2. Chapter 2

Back again, listeners. I hope that weather proved soothing because EVERYTHING HERE HAS GONE TO HELL.

...hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t use that phrase when one of our interns is… you know.

[Coughs]

The point is that all sorts of strange things are occurring, far stranger than even our dear little town is used to. Tulip texted me back, and after her disastrous call with Odin--you know, the meat guy?--and, just for the record, these failed negotiations are in NO way her fault... but after the call our dear, hot-tempered Mayor seems to have taken the animosity to heart.

[Sighs]

We all know my girlfriend is, uh, spirited... but today she’s just been weird??

Listeners, a concerned citizen called in saying that Mayor Tulip has _stolen_ a big brown Brewski from the dog park.

I can’t even imagine how she managed to get past the park’s new security... actually, no. That was a complete lie, and I apologize for it. Tulip could have easily snuck past the void traps and hooded figures, and apparently she did.

But what does she want with a _Brewski_?

... oh fu--I MEAN...oh no. Yes. Hmm. She’s going to be here any minute now, isn’t she?

...

...

... well I suppose we can ask her about it then!

Actually, while I have a free moment, I suppose I should admit that things aren’t _all_ terrible. During the weather I _might_ have snuck out of the radio station--just for a minute! I went through Emily’s special Station Management Back Entrance, because there’s all sorts of weird sounds coming from up front. Isn’t that odd? The station is usually pretty quiet...

Anyway, I went down to the bar for a quick drink and who do I see but Annville’s _very own vampiric stranger!_

[Squeals]

Ahem.

He was something to behold, listeners: seated at the bar, chugging a bottle with a skill I’ve only ever seen in Tulip. Or myself, of course. He opened his mouth, showing off those perfect, not-pointed teeth, and asked me where he was. ‘Annville,’ I said, and he said, ‘Your voice sounds familiar, padre,’ and _I_ said, ‘ _Really?_ ’ because I’d honestly forgotten that I was the radio show’s host! I was just about to ask him why he’d given me the wonderful nickname of ‘padre’ when--

[Grinding teeth]

When _Donnie Schenck_ showed up.

He’d apparently heard that Ratwater sponsorship ad and had gone off to shoot some folks with a paintball gun, and then he had the GALL to want a drink afterwards. In my bar. That _my_ handsome stranger was in! I try to keep my violent side in check, listeners, but I couldn’t let that stand.

So I beat the holy hell out of him.

I broke his arm.

_I snapped the bone and made him squeal like an English Angora bunny._

… The stranger watched. He toasted me and said, ‘Nice moves, padre. The name’s Cassidy.’

Cassidy, listeners.

Isn’t that WONDERFUL?

I made some awful joke about how hot it was, and how hot _he_ was, and basically he’s agreed to come around and take a look at the air conditioner sometime. I know, I know, we can’t technically fix it, but he doesn’t need to know that, right? I warned him to steer clear of the abandoned church hell portal and he gave me this weird look... oh well. I suppose no one is actually perfect.

[Sigh]

...

...

...

...oh. Right. Traffic.

There are reports of a traffic jam on Route 6, right around the abandoned church's Hell Portal. Color me surprised. It's gotta be a pretty bad one… I can even hear some honking from the radio station. It's funny, y’know, I always imagined that Hell would be something like a really bad traffic jam. Everybody stuck on the road, blistering hot sun, and your A/C is broken… no gas station for miles and you're running on empty. And you've gotta pee something fierce. Yeah, sounds like torment to me. If y'all are stuck out there, try to stay cool! We can get through this together. You, and my voice, and the endless asphalt.

[Loud knocking sound]

Oh! It’s gotta be Tulip. Y’all hang on a sec, Emily’s gone so I need to let her in.

[sounds of footsteps, doors opening and a brief kiss]

Welcome back to the station, Ms. Mayor.

_The place looks good, Jesse. I really like all the empty Chinese take-out boxes._

Well, if I weren’t so busy here… or maybe if someone at home made me dinner…

[A thump, as if a gentle punch was thrown] _Hey! I’m busy too, you know. This city don’t run itself._

Too true. Uh, speaking of… how are things with Quincannon?

_Ugh, that guy is such an asswipe motherf--_

WELL! Since we’re still live, um, let’s talk about it later, sweetheart.

_Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, Jesse, I was listening when you were talking about running down to the bar and makin’ heart eyes at that new guy._

Tulip, listen. He’s **really** cute.

_Oh I’m sure. Tall, dark, mysterious bad-boy? I know you, Jesse. The question is, why didn’t you ask me about it first?_

_…_

Okay, my mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t ask. But I’m positive you’d really like him. He’s got this accent, Irish I think, and it’s kinda hard to understand but it’s damn sexy...

[heavy sigh] _Let’s get on with this thing before Mr. Tinydick Meatguy tries to call back._

Uh, right. So on this week’s Cooking With Jesse: Mayor Tulip O’Hare’s world-famous hash browns! Please give us the scoop.

_Well, the last time I made them, I kinda set an oven on fire. So safety first, kids!_

Hah... yeah. That would be good for this week’s Science Fact Kid’s Corner, actually. Vanilla extract is **very** flammable.

_If you ever needed a Molotov in a pinch, and you already drank all the alcohol, I think it’d do just fine._

… Let’s revisit the ‘safety first’ part of the program. As far as the hash browns--

_I mean, honestly, the amount of things in a kitchen you can use to make a Molotov is pretty surprising. I think it’s good for people to know that if they needed to throw a flaming bottle through the window of a bar, for instance, like if they saw their boyfriend inside leaning way too close to some skinny jerk in sunglasses--_

Um. But, the hash browns?

 _Oh yeah, there’s plenty of other ways to take your revenge too. It doesn’t have to be so flashy. Vanilla extract’s really good for covering other flavors, like a heavy dose of laxative, or_ **_poison_ ** _\--_

I’M SORRY, TULIP. There. I said it on-air so everyone knows.

_Hmph._

But Cassidy, if you’re listening, I still think we should get coffee on Saturday. I’ll bring Tulip, I know y’all will get along--

_I got us a dog._

… Excuse me?

_A dog. Name Brewski. I got him for us. Because you keep talking about us sharing things and spending time together, and I figured if we had a dog we could, y’know, walk it and stuff._

Uh…

_You’re welcome._

… Thank you? Okay. I mean, thanks. How… uh, where is it?

_I stuck him in the bathroom. He’s kinda big, so I didn’t know if there’d be enough room in here for all of us._

Okaaay. Um, listeners, I’m going to leave you here with the Mayor for a moment while I go… meet our new dog? Brewski. At least we’ve got the dog park now…

[sounds of chair scraping, door opening and closing]

… _I’m not sure what he wants me to say, but since he left me here… Listen. Cassidy, right? This is a message for you. I can tell when Jesse falls for somebody, and he’s falling hard right now. So you better have good intentions, or I swear to God, I will end you so fast you won’t have a chance to see it coming._

_That being said, you should come get coffee with us on Saturday. Jesse might be an idiot, but he does have good taste._

[door slams open]

Tulip! Was Brewski acting weird when you got him?

_No, why?_

Because he’s floating about five feet off the floor right now?

_… Huh._

I can’t seem to move him either, I tried. He is real cute though. Good job, honey. At least he can reach the sink in there. Did anything happen while I was gone?

_No, I just chatted a bit--_

[phone rings]

Oh! Hello caller, you’re on with Jesse and Tulip. What can we do for you?

**Ey, Padre! Your lass has a lovely way with words, I think I’m smitten already.**

Cassidy? [chokes a little] H-hi. Thanks for calling in? I didn’t think you would even be listening...

**They ‘ave it going at the bar. Listen, I’ve only got one quarter for this payphone, but I just wanted to say I’ll see ya both on Saturday. Can we make it a dinner date, though? I tend to sleep late....**

[quiet thumps] _Howdy Cass, can I call you Cass? This is your Mayor. I’d like to give you an official welcome to Annville._

**Heh, that’s right sweet of ya! I can’t wait to get the full welcome treatment. Does it include a sample of this breakfast I keep hearin’ about?**

_Well aren’t you confident? You so sure you’ll be staying over for breakfast?_

Uh, Tulip, we’re still broadcasting--

**Only if we wake up in time for it. Otherwise, I make a mean brunch. Omelettes and all.**

_As long as you can cook eggs better than Jesse, you’re on._

My eggs are _totally_ fine--

**Hah, I’m sure they are darlin’. I’ll see you lot on Saturday.**

[hangs up phone]

… You really don’t like my eggs?

_They’re fine, you know I’m teasing._

Thanks. Uh, we didn’t really get through the cooking part, but I think we should probably move on? We’ll try this again next week, folks. Before you have to go, Tulip, did you want to--

[A sudden, loud cracking noise]

Wait, what was that?

[The sound of footsteps, murmuring, machinery in the distance]

[A forceful, jarring bang]

**_Open up, Jesse!_ **

Listeners, that’s Odin at our station door. You know, the mea--

… No. You know what? You already _know_ he’s the meat guy, don’t you? We all do, and frankly I’m sick of saying it! I’m sick of his phone calls, and tacky posters, and his GODDAMN DISRESPECT TOWARDS THIS STATION.

_Here, here._

Tulip?

_Hmm?_

What do you say we take some of these guns in the station stockpile and show that half-baked, cocksucking son of a whore what happens when he fucks with a Custer and an O’Hare.

[Click of a gun] _Honey, I thought you’d never ask._

**_Jesse Custer! I know you’re in there!_ **

I apologize to our squeamish listeners in advance, but my duty towards the news won’t allow me to stop reporting, not when we may be making Annville history this day.

_‘Course we’re making history, Jesse. Odin’s gonna be the first Annville resident to go fuck himself-- literally._

What my awesome girlfriend said. You got your screwdriver?

_Yep._

Great. Gimme that rifle and the portable mic.

Okay, we’re making our way out of the booth, listeners. I must admit... I can’t remember the last time I’ve exited the station this way, if I ever have. The corridors are darker, lonelier without our station management and intern to fill them up, and I gotta say that I’m grateful to have Tulip with me in this moment. Wait-- we’re nearly at the front. Odin! You’d best turn around if you know what’s good for you!

**_Bullshit, Custer. Boys! Knock this godless place to the ground._ **

A moment, listeners, if you’d indulge me--[Rapid sounds of gunfire. Screams. A laugh from Tulip.]

Mayor Tulip, if I could ask for a cooking recommendation?

_Sure thing._

I just feel it’s right to indulge our meat-obsessed guest: if you were to choose any part of a QM&P worker, which would be best suited for a tasty snack?

_Why, I’d choose the dick of course. Cut if off at the base, mangle it a bit, serve with plenty of ketchup._

Right then--[Gunshot. Unholy shriek from one of the men]

So sorry to drop you for a minute there, listeners. Perhaps I can describe the scene for you: be your eyes for once, as well as your ears. Odin and his men have broken through the front of our beloved radio station, brandishing guns and occult weaponry that is definitely _not_ government sanctioned. There are perhaps fifty of them in all, with pudgy, sweaty identical faces, identical jumpers, an identical hatred for all of us and our town. We’ve pushed the first few of them back, but they remain stationed just a few yards away from the doorway we’re in, using the long benches as shields. Uh... Tulip? Since when do we have benches in the station?

_...you really are an idiot, aren’t you?_

What?? Why am _I_ the idiot here? I--aw shit. [More gunshots]. Listeners? As unprecedented as this is, you’ll need to excuse me for just a moment. Tulip... take my mic.

 _Sure thing, sweetie._ [Rustling sounds] _Hey there, listeners! In case it’s not obvious from the lovely gurgles and snaps of bone you’re hearing in the background, my boyfriend-_ \- **_my man_ ** \-- _is_ _currently kicking the living shit out of Quincannon’s men. We’ll be finished here quick as a whip, and then we’ll return you to your regularly scheduled-- the fuck?_

**Get away from him, ya filthy lil’ gobshites!**

_Welp, some Irish asshole just joined the fray. Huh. I bet that’s the new guy. He’s not bad looking, in a sloppy sort of way, I mean. Woooooo, he knows his way around a fight too! Another man after my own heart. Fuck me sideways, he could give Jesse a lesson in moves. Never seen a guy rip a throat out with his teeth before and guzzle all the blo--_

_..._

_..._

_... oh._

_..._

_... Jesus. Fuck it, fine. He’s cute, Jesse. That what you wanted to hear?_

[Distant ‘YES’]

_Swear to god, I spoil this boy... an’ thank christ, yes, let the Irish twat disembowel Donnie and take your damn listeners back. And wipe that look off your face, Jesse Custer._

[Sounds of a mic passing]

I knew you’d like him!

_‘Like’ nothing. Looks like a twerp from where I’m standing. Probably the type you’d fuck in a backseat and he’d moan about making love._

I feel the need to point out Tulip’s air quotes here, listeners. She always was good at those.

_Fuck you too._

I hope so.

_Mmm..._

**Oi! Can you two stop makin’ gooey eyes for a moment an’ help me out with these wankers!?**

Sure thing, Cassidy! Or Cass? Oh yes. I like ‘Cass’ better too.

_I like ‘asshole.’_

I’m sure you’ll like his asshole just fine, Tulip… _UH_. [coughs] Listeners, I had hoped that this skirmish would be finished by now-- stubborn, goddamn meat men-- but Odin seems to have had more troops waiting outside our dear station. They’re flooding through the large, oak doors and their numbers must be substantial because the very ground itself has begun to shake beneath our feet.

_...Jesse, I don’t think that’s Odin._

**Hey, Jess! An’ the gorgeous lass there to your left. Is this normal for your messed up town?**

Nor--? Oh! Y’all, Cass seems to be referring to a spot in the middle of the floor that has suddenly caved inward, the source of all this strange, jarring movement. The bodies of Odin’s men are tumbling into this new chasm and in their place rises...oh wow. Listeners, you’ll hardly believe this, but it’s our dear station management! Emily is OKAY!

_Goddamn. Good job, girl._

I would give anything to share this image with you, listeners. Emily is covered in burns and her clothes are in tatters, but she’s fiercely beautiful like this, brimming with supernatural power. We couldn’t ask for a better defender of our town. Flanking her like the warriors of old are Tracy and The Faceless Boy Who Lives in your House… or at least I _think_ that’s Eugene. Kind of hard to tell without a face. That is his jacket though. Anyway! She’s clashing against the last wave of Odin’s men, yelling something about how this is definitely not legal and she _will_ be pressing charges--after she dismembers them, of course. Too right, Emily. I’ll help you with the paperwork later. Oh, I couldn’t be more proud of this show’s management!

Although... how’d she get here? I would have expected Emily to come back out of the hell portal at the abandoned church.

_Jesus fuck, I’m not even responding to that._

Alright, everyone has been pushed back now. And I just saw someone drive up outside, who’s-- oh, it’s Sheriff Root. He just pulled up in one of the Secret Police’s Extra-Secret Cars. Hey Sheriff, Eugene is back! Uh, I’m not sure he even knew he was gone, honestly… probably better left unsaid.

_Probably right about that._

**Good evenin’ folks, fine of you to join us.**

Hey Cassidy! Wow that’s a lot of blood on your clothes... thank you for your help, protecting the station and everything.

**Think nothin’ of it, Padre. My pleasure.**

Seriously, thanks. Oh, and this here… this is Tulip.

_Nice to meet you. Are those… hotdogs in your hands?_

**Aye, those nice blokes over there are givin’ them out. I must say, it’s been a long time since I’ve been to a gunfight with a catered lunch. It’s a nice touch, that.**

Whoa. Listeners, it seems that we do, in fact, have a catered lunch. The not-exactly-tall man and his not-exactly-short companion are grilling, right outside the station. That’s weird, I thought they were at the abandoned church… well anyway, the smell has drawn quite a crowd. Most of Annville looks like they’re out watching the party… and it looks like Odin and a handful of guys are coming back for a final round. Hmph, idiots.

**Fancy a bite before you go kick their asses?**

Thanks Cass, you got these hotdogs for us? You’re so dazzlingly thoughtful…

_Cool it, Jesse. We do appreciate it though. You didn’t get one for yourself?_

**Nah, I had a big meal earlier.**

_Mm, these are tasty._

… Wow. I don’t feel so good after eating that? I feel kind of… weird… and all-powerful? What kind of mustard was on that…

_Jesse, you okay?_

Yeah, I think so. I think I’m **more** than okay.

_Well that’s good, because Odin and his goons are heading this way._

**Aren’t they tired of getting beat yet?**

_Southerners don’t take too swift to the whole ‘surrendering’ thing._

Alright, listeners. It’s time to do something about this once and for all. I apologize in advance if this audio is a little loud.

 **“** **_H E Y ,   Y O U   A S S H O L E S ! ”_ **

_Christ Jesse, it sounds like your voice is… it feels like it’s on fire?!_

**“** **_T H A T ’ S   E N O U G H ._ ** **_P A C K   I T   U P   A N D   G O   H O M E ._ ** **“**

… **Holy shit, Padre.**

 **“** **_O D I N .   A L L   O F   Y O U .   S T A Y   A W A Y    F R O M   U S !_ ** **“**

_You tell ‘em. Don’t forget the ‘go fuck yourself,’ Jesse._

Wha--? Oh. Right. **“** **_G O   F U C K   Y O U R S E L F ,   D O N N I E ._ ** **“**

_I was thinking Odin, but alright._

[Heavy breathing] I’m not sure where that voice came from, but they’re… they’re actually leaving, listeners, _finally_ marching out the door one by one. Except Donnie. He’s writhing on the floor with... well. He’ll need an ambulance. Cass?

**On it, mate.**

Thank you. This is a glorious day, everyone. We’ve successfully defended our great radio station.

**You mean the church, Padre?**

Huh? No, this is the station… I mean there are all these pews and bibles… and the lovely stained glass windows, but that doesn’t mean it’s-- oh hey, Emily. Glad to have you back.

_IT WAS ALWAYS A CHURCH, JESSE._

… You don’t say?

_I tried to tell you, but you never believed me._

I thought you were talking about like, zoning laws!! Mayor stuff. Right? I mean, Eugene, _you_ didn’t know this place was a church, did you?

_Yeesh, of courshe. That’sh why I was a little confuushed, when you said to go to thhe church to look at the portal..._

_You’re literally the only one who didn’t realize._

**You are wearin’ a collar, uh, padre.**

Really? Well, you know what they say: learn something new every day, unless someone slips a memory poison into your drink! Speaking of drinks… Tulip, Cass? How about that dinner date a little early? God knows I need a drink after all this. Maybe even a movie? I hear the new _Saint of Killers_ is really good.

_JESSE CUSTER. WHO EXACTLY DO YOU EXPECT TO CLEAN UP ALL THESE BODIES?_

… So dinner, a movie, and then some romantic grave digging?

_Works for me._

**Aye. Finish up your broadcast an’ we’ll meet you out by the Arby’s, alright love?**

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[Footsteps leaving the church. Emily, Eugene, and the not-angels calling ‘goodnight.’]

 

[Soothing radio static]

 

I meant that, listeners. I really wouldn’t have it any other way. This town, for all its faults, for all of its hell-portals and mysterious happenings, is a remarkable place to live-- and it’s filled with truly remarkable people. Whether you are new or have lived here since time began, whether you’re a vampire, a mayor, faceless, recently dead, a creature that is anything but an angel...if you are tired, or weary, or even broken in ways you’re not sure you can fix... this town will always welcome you. _I_ welcome you.

Never forget this, Annville. Please.

Until we next speak, I suppose all I can offer you is a ‘goodnight’ of my own.

So with all my love and sincerity: Goodnight, Annville.

Goodnight.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never entirely sure what to put here… except that I’m sure I speak for the both of us when I say that this was a blast to write. Special thanks go to thesunisloud for requesting the crossover, and obviously Preacher/WTNV for giving us these amazing sandboxes to play in. 
> 
> ...also, mobius-loop and I would like to note that any similarities between this and recent canon, that might or might not involve pancakes and radio broadcasts… well, we wrote ours first :p


End file.
